


Only Fools Fall (For You)

by welpslytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Skinny Dipping, The Great Lake | The Black Lake (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welpslytherin/pseuds/welpslytherin
Summary: It’s the summer of '98 and a certain blond Slytherin has amends to make and feelings to get over. Featuring skinny dipping, a bold Harry Potter, and a blushing Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 21
Kudos: 308
Collections: Very Drarry Summer Vibes 2020





	Only Fools Fall (For You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rinnwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnwrites/gifts).



> We're not very close in the server but from what I've gathered from our limited interactions, you're very intelligent and just amazing to have around. I'm so glad to have been able to write this for you. I hope you like it!
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta and an even lovelier friend [triggerlil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerlil) for looking over a still very rough version of this and giving such thoughtful insight. Also give her some love for moderating this wonderful collection along with [btamin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/btamin), [zzledri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzledri), and [MiriMora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriMora)!

Draco Malfoy doesn’t know how to go about apologies. 

He _is_ sorry, though. More than he can ever say. He has done terrible things, from being an accomplice for the murder of his own headmaster to housing the most powerful dark wizard in his own home, where he watched his classmates being tortured to the brink of death, and he regrets each moment with every beat of his heart. He looks to that boy who had been driven by fear and wants so badly to believe that his actions can be justified. That he did what he could with the situation he was in. He _saved_ Potter, didn’t he? He risked his own life to get the saviour away from danger (though it _had_ been more for selfish reasons than for everyone else who needed saving). Couldn’t that be enough? 

The guilt and grief had lapped at the edges of his mind, tantalizing and venomous, until he's forced to give himself up to the crushing sensations and mourn for the loss of every single thing he has held dear to him. 

Draco wants to apologize to every one of his classmates he's looked down on for merely having parents who didn’t have the good fortune to be able to do magic, for being so deeply clouded by mindless supremacist ideals that he failed to consider how their personal lives may have been affected by this abhorrent discrimination. He wants to apologize to Weasley, for years of antagonization and hatred for no reason other than the fact that, unlike Draco, he had been successful in befriending one Harry Potter. He wants to apologize to Granger, who he had treated like dirt under his shoe for years only because she had been competent and he'd been ashamed of his inability to surpass her academically. And most of all, he wants to apologize to Potter, who decided that the boy who made his school life a living hell was worth saving. Potter, who is bloody _complicated_ , because of course he is, and Draco doesn't even think a single apology can cover the assortment of pent-up emotions that he harbours for this boy. He doesn’t know whether to thank or strangle him for saving Draco’s life once again, even when he wished to die. Even when he didn’t _deserve_ it. 

Draco Malfoy wants to be forgiven. But more than he dares to admit, he wants Harry Potter to forgive him.

Merlin, but he doesn't think he has apologized to anyone without the accompaniment of a sarcastic lilt or a mocking sneer and the thought that this little record would be broken in the near future scares him to _pieces_. He thinks that if his friends were to be with him, he might be able to do it. But they’re not, they’ve fled to what international land they have left, along with his own parents. 

For the first time in his life, Draco is truly alone. 

His parents, who had breathed down his neck for the better part of his life are gone, have fucked off to France. Not even nearly three hours after Voldemort had perished for good. 

He had been numb by the time they reached the Manor. Despite the part of him that _knew_ he should be bloody ecstatic that bloody _Voldemort_ had perished for good, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He was just so _tired_.

Lucius Malfoy strode across the living room, his face a mask of livid incredulity, but his gait one of a man who was terrified for his life. Narcissa attempted to placate him by his side, reciting their plan to escape to France in hushed whispers and strained demeanours. Draco layered his aloofness over with a complacent mask of apathy as their urgent orders went into one ear and out the other. Only when they stood in front of the Floo with all their heirlooms and ancient texts shrunken into a bag did Draco speak up, “I’m not going.”

Lucius’s eyes locked onto his son’s face, confusion rippling his expression. “What are you talking about?”

Draco could feel the fatigue settling in his bones. 

“I’m not fucking off to France,” he said, firmer, this time. 

“You _will_ ,” he seethed as he stalked over to him with livid incredulity, getting close enough that his breath washed over Draco. “Don’t you dare to speak to me like that again.” 

He was looking at him, as though he’d never seen him before, and when grey met grey Draco could see anger and _distress_. 

“I won’t stop you,” Draco continued, “and I’m not going to snitch to the Ministry. But _I’m not going_.” 

Because all at once he realized that everything he'd ever said or done has been linked to the man in front of him, the man who made a tool out of his own son. Draco had to clench his jaw, had to forcibly will himself not to look away. He told himself _he won't back down_ with weakness, but then Lucius murmured, “my son…” and Draco was letting out a ragged breath, trembling with the force of his denial.

“Lucius,” Narcissa said and Draco didn’t think he noticed his mother coming up behind him. Putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “We should go.” 

This snapped Lucius out of stupor but anger, indignation, and disappointment remained in his eyes as they swept over his son. Because for all of his bark, Lucius Malfoy loved his wife and he would follow her to the ends of the earth. Even if it meant leaving his son behind in a place where he’d be detested for choices he had been forced to make. 

“Draco,” his mother said and pulled him into a hug, “my sweet child. I am so so sorry.” 

His father stood frozen in place, and he had the audacity to look _hurt_ , as though he wanted so desperately to believe what Draco was saying to be false. But Draco also detected a thin sheen of something tainted with relief, undisguised within his hard stare. He hated it. 

“I’ll be fine.” He swallowed. 

“We’ll Owl you,” she promised and before he knew it, they were yelling the name of their destination before the Floo powder swallowed them both. 

After that disaster, he had gone through trials and was mercifully provided with a probation that entailed a year-long tracking spell on his wand and the necessity of returning to Hogwarts. 

So this is how he finds himself back at the place where it all ended. Because maybe he has no idea where to begin, how to start righting every wrong in his life, but amending the place he may never be able to call home again seems like a good first step.

* * *

Returning to Hogwarts is a fucking mistake. 

And it is with pure unadulterated horror when he watches his fellow classmates whoop and holler at what they call _skinny dipping_ and what turns out to be _swimming stark naked_. 

It started off as a joke. 

The heat had been beating down on everyone ever since they arrived at Hogwarts. They spent the majority of their time wiping beads of sweat off their foreheads, shifting stickily in their seats, and dreading their heavy black robes that made them sweatier and stuffier than necessary. The frustration from being so hot their skin felt prickly built up to an idea that sounded both like the most horrible and best idea ever. Which just so happens to be, and Draco repeats, _swimming stark naked_. 

So when McGonagall granted them permission to go down to the Lake at a certain time frame during the weekend, the Eighth years snatched that opportunity up like it was a bottle of Felix Felicis. 

Draco clutches his towel against his chest as the original excitement to swim in the Black Lake dissipates into a pit of dread in the bottom of his stomach. On the contrary, Pansy squeals beside him excitedly and starts unbuttoning her shirt, to which he has to swallow down the bile to stop himself from gagging. 

“Must we do this in broad daylight?” He groans, eyes skittering across the chaos unravelling before him. “Why not in the dark of the night, when no one can see our flopping junk on display for reasons I cannot even begin to fathom?”

“Stop having so much _fun_ , Draco. Would you rather melt into a puddle?” Pansy says, “Seriously though, it’s not a big deal. We lived through a _war_. Consider this...a cathartic liberation.” before reaching back and unclasping her bra. Draco promptly looks away in horror, certain that the flash of her nipples will stay burned in the recluses of his brain forever. 

“Oh fucking Salazar,” he mutters, heat spreading out towards his whole body as his gut begins to wobble uncomfortably. He hears Pansy’s delighted scream mesh with the crashing of water when she jumps in. 

They have all forgotten about him within moments, too occupied laughing, plowing through the water, teasing each other about weird nipple shapes or cock sizes, jumping and dunking each other’s heads under, playing games. It’s all a flurry of naked bodies breaking the surface in an explosion of bubbles and white rushing water, ripples undulating all around. He spots Granger and Weasley on the far side of the Lake, away from everybody in their own alcove. He feels something green and ugly rise in his chest at how they’re safe from all this chaos and at another aspect he’s not ready to decipher. 

He zones back into the scene before him and shakes his head at how all of them can do this without blushing profusely or wanting to hide under a rock forever. They grew up with these people, for fuck’s sake. Draco does wonder how on earth they’ll be able to sleep at night after this. 

“I think I have PTSD,” he mutters, making to return to the castle, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to be able to relax during _this_. 

It isn’t long before the remainder of the eighth years are stripping to their underwear, hesitating for only a second before getting rid of those too, and jumping into the water with exhilaration. Draco has to admit, it does look rather...liberating. It’s just, it makes him feel so... _vulnerable_. Exposing. He has way too many scars he’s not ready to flaunt. And that’s perfectly okay. 

But then.

Oh, but _then_. 

Harry bloody Potter strides down the bank in nothing but a pair of teal swim trunks, showing off his toned, lithe figure. His glasses are gone, leaving his vibrant green eyes piercing without a sheet of lens blocking them. Draco barely registers the stirring of arousal in his nether regions. He feels blood pool up in his cheeks and somewhere lower he’s too shocked to acknowledge right now. Draco is horny in that deep-itch kind of way, that no amount of wanking would be able to alleviate. And he _craves_ Potter like he needs air. 

Draco realizes in that moment that it’s terribly difficult to control your facial expressions when your subject of desire looks that good and he obviously isn’t making it easy for him. He gawks at the boy walking towards them and has to double-check if he has his jaw unhinged.

“Hullo, Malfoy,” Potter greets as he passes him, seemingly unaware of the events that had unfolded in his absence.

“Harry,” Hannah Abbott yells and waves at him, which causes a pink nipple to rise above the water. Heart dropping in horror, Draco promptly looks at the pebble on the ground. 

“Hey—” Potter freezes, before cursing very loudly. “Hannah, _what—_ Why are you _naked_?!”

Draco fights a snicker.

“Oh, Harry, don’t be dramatic. We’re skinny dipping!” The Hufflepuff laughs and to both his and Potter’s horror, she _rises_ _out_ of the water and walks _towards_ him, her very _very_ female body on display. And it’s this moment that Draco decides he would rather have fallen to his death in the Fiendfyre, fuck Potter very much for having a hero complex the size of a small country and saving him. And it isn’t as though he needed more confirmation but he can now say with absolute certainty that he is in fact completely and utterly gay. 

“Oh fuck no!” Potter yells before turning on his heel and bolting back in the direction of the castle. Draco is left there, rooted to the spot, with wide eyes as Abbott rolls her eyes, shakes her head, before diving back into the water. Draco takes the chance to bolt as well. 

He decides a minute later that there’s no way in hell he’s going back into the sauna of a castle. He came down here to cool off and he thinks that if he were to go back into his room in this condition he might actually burn every last brain cell he has left. 

He doesn’t know where Potter has gone. He convinces himself that he’s not looking for him and if he uses a quick _Homenum Revelio_ (revealing that there _is_ someone down south of the Lake), then it’s nobody else’s business but his. He followed the trail of mud in that direction, the thicket of bushes and trees eventually began to thin as the stream let out into a little clearing that held a beautiful pond. There are rocks and boulders blanketed by moss and vines over on the far side of the pond. Lily pads cover the surface of the water and Draco can see colourful flowers growing thick in the crevices. It looks heavenly and he momentarily forgets about Potter as he begins to walk to it, already imagining getting in the water and letting all the heat drain out of him. 

“Glad to see I’m not the only sane one here.” Potter pops in out of nowhere, startling Draco and sending lightning up his veins. He has his hands in the pockets of his swim trunks and looks at Draco smugly. At least he has the decency to look sheepish. 

“Merlin,” Draco clears his throat, taking a step back, “yes well. I’m starting to think we’re the mental ones seeing how normal stripping naked with each other seems to be for them.”

Potter laughs, which triggers that fucking _fluttering_ in Draco’s stomach again. “You have a point. Although, I guess I’m not entirely opposed to skinny dipping. Just not with _them_.” 

Draco can feel heat burn his cheeks. “Are you saying you _would_ skinny dip with someone? Look at that, even the saviour of the world has some kinks up his sleeve. What would the fans think?”

Potter is a few steps ahead of him and he turns his head sideways to smirk at him. “Yes, I’d skinny dip,” he confirms, rolling his eyes a little, “but only with the right person.”

Draco looks away quickly, fixating his gaze on a flimsy twig protruding from a bush. He doesn’t _like_ that he feels like some first year with a crush so he dares to shoot back, “What, d’you have someone in mind?”, a challenge hinted in his voice. 

Potter’s eyebrows disappear into his fringe and there is a twinkle in his eyes when he murmurs, “I’d say so.”

Draco’s throat runs dry and he tries to swallow but it’s fucking _parched_. Because Potter has been playing games with him since the beginning of the term. Draco hadn’t dwelled on the possibility of getting hexed outright by Potter, not after him testifying at the trials and returning his wand and bloody Owling him ( _Hope to see you at school - HP_ as though Draco had a choice whether to come back or not). But he hadn’t been confident either and assumed that they would antagonize each other straight to Madam Pomfrey sooner or later. He’d thought Potter would either pretend Draco didn’t exist (He says ‘Hey, Malfoy’ and sits with him in the library almost every day which causes Draco’s stomach to bloody _flutter_ ) or bring up the whole saving-his-life thing whenever the opportunity presented itself (he hadn’t mentioned it even once). Instead, he tries to make jokes around him and his fingers linger far too long on the back of Draco’s hands. He doesn’t want to look into it too much, doesn’t want to make this a bigger thing than it already is, but he’s bloody Potter and if there’s a skill that Draco has mastered in the past seven years, it’s the inability to think about anyone other than The-Boy-Who-Lived.

“Who?” Draco asks and he hates how hopeful he sounds. 

Potter doesn’t reply, instead begins to undress slowly, as though nervous and unsure of how Draco would react. When he gets down to his last piece of clothing—a pair of navy boxers—he expects him to stop and walk into the water. Instead, Potter slips two thumbs under the waistband and slides them down and Draco’s heart drops in a similar motion. 

His eyes lock onto the patch of dark curls before they slip _down_ and widen at his cock. and Draco’s brain actually short circuits because Potter’s cock is, well, _big_. And once that train of thought leaves the station, he really can’t help himself from imagining how it would feel inside Draco as he pounds against his arse so _hard_ he has to reach up and clutch the headboard—

“Well?”

And Draco has to refrain from snapping back, ‘Excuse me for getting so caught up with staring at your perfect cock, you gorgeous wanker’, because really, he hadn’t expected for Potter to look so bloody delectable. And he certainly hadn’t expected to be _skinny dipping_ with him.

Draco drags his shirt off and slides his trousers down, balling them up loosely beside his shoes. He opts to ignore the blood rushing everywhere as he squirms internally under Potter’s scrutiny and proximity. He can practically feel his eyes running over the scars criss-crossed on his chest, can sense his gaze as he traces over them, one by one. And he fucking knows what’s coming and the Gryffindor’s gigantic saviour complex doesn’t disappoint when he breathes, “Malfoy…”

His mouth runs dry and his breath hitches and he shakes his head, “Not now.” And it’s almost comical, the way he’s standing there with his dick hanging out just perusing Draco’s chest like it’s an artifact. But Merlin, it’s too fucking hot for this shit and he’s been itching to envelope himself in water, where he hopes the crawling in his skin will go away. So he gives Potter a half-hearted shrug before he walks to the shore in his boxers and dives gracefully into the water. 

The water feels like heaven against his skin. His eyelids droop involuntarily from the pleasure of it. God, he needed this. It laps coolly against his shoulders as he swims out to the middle of the stream. When he stops, the tips of his toes sink into sand, pebbles grazing his nails. He kicks them in the water and paddles his arms rhythmically in an attempt to stay afloat. “Come the fuck on, Potter! Do all Gryffindors lumber around like drugged giants?”

Potter just snorts as he runs to the shore, jumping in with his knees hugged tight to his chest, a plethora of laughs and cheers bubbling out of him. 

He swims back and forth around Draco, nowhere near as methodical and refined as Draco’s strokes. But they’re having _fun_ and laughing without a care in the world. And it’s like they hadn’t just fought on opposite sides of a war, like the ugly serpentine mark on his arm doesn’t exist, like they didn’t spend the better part of their school years hating and tormenting each other. 

There’s a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that screams at him to stop, that this is all wrong, that he’s not supposed to enjoy being with Potter, just like he’s not supposed to be in love with him. 

But they’re _touching_ and Potter’s warm and wet and _right there_ and Draco just wants to live in this moment forever. 

Everything feels so good and nice and it’s like stepping into a warm summer day after being in winter for so long. Draco feels Potter’s leg brush against his and _oh God_ he inches just a little bit closer to test the waters. Potter’s laughing and wrestling him and if they press any closer he’s going to feel Draco’s erection that’s been gradually developing throughout.

Then Potter’s laughter crumbles into a chuckle as his eyes glitter, watching him under wet lashes. “I like you.” 

Draco’s eyes widen, brows disappearing into his fringe, as he sputters, “What?”

“You’re...different,” Potter continues and Draco swears he imagines it when his eyes flicker to his mouth. “I like you like this.”

Draco swallows and his cheeks bloom with heat as he rasps, “You’re bloody insane.”

Potter seems to contemplate that for a while and he’s _definitely_ looking at Draco’s lips now. His throat has run dry and his brain has stopped functioning and he doesn’t think his heart could pound any harder until Potter whispers, “I guess I am.”

He kisses Draco then. 

And it’s wonderful, just lips pressing against lips for a minute or an hour, Draco has no idea, until Potter pulls away to look at him, worried eyes searching for _something_. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Come here,” Draco breathes and surges forward to cover his mouth over his, with more force and determination than the first. And Potter just _melts_ into Draco’s kiss, like he has needed this forever, and Draco needs to pinch himself because is this really happening?

Potter groans and the slide of his tongue against his makes Draco go off like firecrackers. He’s sure that they’ve both gone insane when Potter slants his head and pants, sure that they’re both going to be shipped to the Janus Thickey ward in St. Mungo’s. Except madness can’t feel this good and that leads Draco to the only conclusion, that _this is real_. He’s kissing the subject of his fantasies and he’s kissing him back and wanting it and Draco feels like

he

might

die. 

Draco yanks his fingers out of Potter’s wet locks and secures them around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. It’s an exquisite thing, kissing Harry Potter, and Draco knows he’ll never get enough of it. Their bodies press together, desperate to be closer, and it’s hard to believe that this is the closest they can get, but then there’s the heavy weight of Potter’s erection rubbing against his hip and Draco can’t help but blurt, “You’re _hard_.” 

Potter’s shoulders shake at that, continuing his quest along Draco’s jaw and his neck, licking the salt off his skin. “Tends to happen when I kiss someone I’ve had my eyes on for a while, Malfoy.” 

Draco’s breath hitches and his heart skips a beat. “Fuck. Yes.” 

They kiss for what feels like forever, their bodies sliding against each other sensually, and it’s too much and not enough at the same time. 

“I can’t believe you’re kissing me,” he gasps when they finally break apart. 

“I can’t believe you’re kissing me back,” Potter replies and it’s hard to believe they could have been together all this time if only someone had the courage to make the first move. 

Draco still can’t believe this is happening and he expresses his perplexment by tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. And pinches the other boy’s cheek.

“Ow,” Potter says, eyes crinkling, “that hurt.”

“Good. I was making sure I haven’t gone mental and that you weren’t a figment of my fantasies.”

“I’m in your fantasies?”

“Piss off.”

Potter’s laugh is contagious and Draco finds himself chuckling along, only to have it cut off when a spray of water hits him dead in the eyes. 

“You berk!” Draco curses and Harry guffaws and it isn’t long before the both of them are swimming in circles, splashing water mercilessly at each other in a race to see who can dunk who underwater first. The sky shifts as they move towards evening and orange spills across the blue like the edge of it has caught flame.

They agree to retreat to the castle around dinner time, opting for the kitchens rather than the Great Hall because “I want privacy” and when Draco asks why, “I need a little more time to confirm that this is not a dream”. Potter sends a Patronus to Weasley and Granger, giving an incredibly Slytherin excuse (a pleasant surprise) that he has been too traumatized by the afternoon’s events to look them in the eyes right now, which in retrospect isn’t actually a lie. Draco is jacked up on endorphins and has to fight off a grin as they walk back up to their dorms with plates of food in their hands, anticipation thrumming in his veins. 

Afterward, when all the food has been chewed and swallowed, when the doors have been locked and privacy charms are in place, Potter kisses him on all fours and makes Draco reach for his mouth. He has no boundaries with The-Boy-Who-Lived, there’s nowhere he won’t go for him, and he tells him this through a mixture of his mouth, his teeth, and his tongue. 

Potter’s bed is soft but springier than Draco would have liked, but serves its purpose good enough. Despite having the curtains drawn, the soft glow from his wand lightens up the space as the sun dips low under the horizon. 

His heart is racing with the excitement of everything he’s allowed to do now—kiss, touch, bite, _taste_. The desire comes rushing in like a wave and there’s nothing that can stop it now. Potter’s lips carry the taste of the treacle tart they shared for dinner, his skin salty with sweat, and when Draco mouths along the underside of his jaw, he tastes a hint of a spicy and likely expensive aftershave, which he finds himself appreciating very much. The cotton of Potter’s shirt is thin and soft against the back of his hand when he slips under it to caress the other boy’s stomach, fingers trailing gently along the lines of his muscles. Potter breaks their kiss momentarily to lift his shirt, his glasses getting caught with the fabric so that when he removes it, Draco is left staring into vibrant green eyes without a barrier between them. And he’s absolutely adorable, his hair utterly atrocious, sticking up in all directions, his swollen lips red and parted. Harry Potter looks debauched and Draco _loves_ it. 

He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until Potter smiles back, leaning down and cupping Draco’s jaw with both hands, kissing him softly. When they break apart this time, Draco’s gaze falls to the infamous lightning scar. Potter notices him and watches Draco with controlled attention. 

Draco holds his breath as he reaches up to trace the jagged line of rough flesh, a literal symbol of how it all started. This is how the wizarding world knows Harry Potter. This is what they define him with. 

“I hated you because of this,” he whispers, but it’s only half the truth. He hates that people think the scar is all there is to Potter, he hates how they never bother to scour for more. Because there _is_ more, so much more, and sometimes Draco feels like he’s the only one who can see it. 

“I know.”

“I was jealous of the attention you got and...angry that you wished to befriend someone ‘lesser’ than me. I had everything—money, power, status. And for a long time, I thought that that was all that mattered.”

“I know.”

“You hated me.”

“Maybe.” Potter blows out a breath and when Draco’s hand slides down, he presses his cheek against Draco's palm, before his expression turns contemplative. “Knowing what you do now...would you have done anything different?”

Draco frowns, and his pulse speeds up a little, because he doesn’t know what the right answer is, what Harry wants him to say. There were many things he wanted to change, when he was stuck between dark walls and blood curdling screams. When he was forced to kill his own headmaster and later watch him die. But now he knows that Harry had been waiting for him at the end of it all. He’d do everything again because it would be worth it. 

“No.” He doesn’t elaborate. Only hopes that Potter knows what he means by the one syllable. And maybe it is the right answer after all because he looks down at Draco with a tender expression and when he kisses him, it’s hot and tight and _perfect_. 

Draco arches into his touch, whining a little when Potter moves to kiss his neck. He scrabbles for more skin, scraping the ends of his nails along the other boy’s back. He thrusts up frantically in time with the way Potter grounds down on him, their erections slotted against each other. 

“Fuck, Draco.” 

And it’s because it’s _Draco_ and not Malfoy that he lets out a whimper, wraps his legs around Potter—Harry’s hips. It’s because it’s Draco that he says, “Fuck me, Harry.”

Harry groans, his shoulders shuddering as though he can’t believe the words that just spilled from Draco’s mouth. But he has been waiting for this moment, needed this for years, and he doesn’t want to prolong it another second. 

“Harry, please.” 

“I—I’ve never—”

“Me neither,” Draco interrupts, forcing Harry to look at him. “I want this, but only if you want to too.”

“More than anything,” Harry breathes and Draco _glows_. 

“Okay.” He takes a breath. “ _Accio_ lube.”

A cool jar from his dresser flies into his hand and he watches Harry watch it with twinkling eyes. Holding his breath, his brain malfunctioning slightly as it tries to process the fact that Harry Potter is about to fuck him, actually _put his cock into his arsehole fuck him_ , Draco dips his fingers into the smooth cream and reaches down to slather it. 

“Oh my God,” Harry says as he stares and stares and stares. 

“Do you plan to fuck me anytime soon or did you want a performance?” Draco can’t resist from sniping, which makes a beautiful blush spread across Harry’s face. 

“Git,” he curses under his breath and follows suit, a smile forming on his lips. “Though, I'm not entirely opposed to that idea. For future purposes of course.”

A snort bubbles out of Draco before it's cut off by a stutter when the first finger enters. His hips jerk with pleasure and a guttural moan that slips past his lips against his will. His mind is racing. Harry’s cock is smooth, dark, and is already glistening with a coat of precome where it brushes heavily against Draco’s own cock, the slight friction combined with the pressure in his arsehole eliciting an orchestra of moans from him. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he hears Harry say and really, he doesn’t have the ability to produce a witty comeback right now because right then the second finger pushes into his hole and it’s unbelievable how good it feels, how hard he is, how completely head over heels he is for the most powerful wizard of their generation. He thinks he’s gone insane. 

Harry fucks him slowly with two fingers and his arse clenches around the digits every time he pulls out. He slides out for more lube when he starts to accommodate them without any resistance. Draco’s cock is leaking copiously onto his stomach now, as his toes curl into the sheets with each thrust.

“P-Potter, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t put your cock in me right now I will literally explode,” he rushes out between pants and Harry’s eyes widen behind the glasses that are slipping down his nose. 

“That fucking makes two of us,” he groans and leans over on one elbow. He throws Draco’s leg over his shoulder, his heel pressing into Harry’s back, as he readies himself in front of his entrance. “Okay?”

“ _Yes_ , for Merlin’s sake, bloody get on with it.”

“So bratty,” is all he gets back before he’s right there, moving in him now, gently coaxing his tip in and Draco stutters out a moan before he exhales into Harry’s mouth with pleasure. He whines deep in his throat and when he opens his eyes, Harry looks fucking _wrecked_ , his hair tousled and stuck up all over the place, his cheeks stained a deep pink and his bottom lip captured between his teeth. 

“You can move,” Draco whispers and Harry’s curls tickle his cheeks when he nods. His thighs are trembling as he grinds his cock in almost all the way, brushing Draco’s prostate, but it’s not nearly enough and he whimpers with the loss of contact when Harry moves backward again. When he thrusts for the second time, it’s smoother and Draco’s arse clenches sinfully around his length. 

“Gods, so good, Harry. Push deeper,” he moans as Harry searches his face with genuine concern. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“No, _fuck_ , here—” Draco places his hand flat on Harry’s chest and pushes. Rolls them over so that he’s on top of him, straddling his hips. And he’s dangerously close to the edge and a whimper tears its way out of him at how much deeper Harry is inside of him right now. “Oh God.” 

Harry’s lips are swollen and shine in the semi-darkness, his eyes intense and slightly frantic. Draco fucks himself on Harry’s cock, grinding down hard and rough in rhythm with the way he’s thrusting upwards frantically. “Draco, oh my God. I’m- I’m gonna—”

He drops his forehead into the dip between Harry’s collarbones, inhaling the sweat glistening there, tasting the salty deliciousness. “Come, Harry.”

Harry comes beautifully. Draco watches his face become undone as the warm semen fills him up and drips down his thighs. “Salazar.” He’s nearing climax now, each thrust downwards hitting his prostate dead on, pleasure shooting up his nerves and clouding his senses. 

Draco stutters out a moan as ropes of white dribble over both their chests and the weight of the release makes him collapse onto Harry in a boneless heap, hot breaths still bursting through his lips. 

He rolls over after a few moments, Harry’s spent cock slipping out of him weakly. They bask in the afterglow of what might be (definitely are) the best orgasms they’ve had in their lives. 

“That was…”

“Brilliant,” Harry smiles and turns to look at Draco, eyes dancing with sated joy. But then they slip lower and somewhere in their desperate fumbling, Draco realizes his shirt has come off and that his scars are in plain sight. He watches as Harry’s expression of wondrous incredulity fades into a guilty dread. 

“Draco...about your,” Harry murmurs. He gestures vaguely at the disarray of blemishes splattered on his chest. 

“What, Potter, don’t believe in finishing sentences?” Draco goes for humor, but the other boy’s expression remains sombre. He huffs, and there’s no evading this conversation now. So he’s not sure if he’s just trying to justify what Potter did when he says, “I tried to Crucio you…”

“Still,” the other boy whispers, the single word hanging in the air like a dead weight. “I’m really sorry.”

“I know.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “I had it coming anyway.”

“Maybe. You _were_ a right bastard,” Harry chuckles beside him. It trickles into a silence that Draco is far too uncomfortable with.

“I’ll take that over Death Eater any day,” he says under his breath, closing his eyes when he turns his head. Thankfully, Harry doesn’t say anything, instead traces his fingers along Draco’s arm, where the deformity of his Dark Mark is, drawing lazy circles around it. It feels good and comforting and Harry’s touch makes it feel like it’s being purified, the once evil mark now tainted with good. 

And then, “Maybe it’s too early for me to say or maybe it’s been a long time coming, but I’m in love with who you’ve become. And for that reason, I love you _because_ of your Dark Mark, Draco.”

Draco inhales sharply, the weight of the other boy’s words hitting him with a force like that of a _Crucio_ , and then finally opens his eyes. Harry’s eyes are as green as emeralds and they pierce through Draco and entwine with his heart. Then he leans down and puts his mouth on the skin on his arm, dragging his lips over the Mark and kissing it. Draco is too shocked to say anything and watches the boy he loves, who loves him _back_ , worship the mark he has tried to scrape off every day. He wants to say numerous things but they all die on his tongue when Harry reaches up and presses their foreheads together, his thumb rubbing his cheek. Draco shudders out a breath and the truth spills out of him before he can stop it, “I love you, Harry Potter. I’m mad with it.” 

He registers the look of pure joy in Harry’s eyes before they meet in the middle, lips slanting against each other perfectly. Light against dark and everything in between. Potter and Malfoy, an endgame of sorts. 

**Author's Note:**

> ☀️ This fic is part of the GWB summer Vibes gift exchange. Please show MA some love with comments and kudos. If you'd like to spread the word, [ consider reblogging this fics tumblr reveal post!](https://triggerlil.tumblr.com/post/626192546777989120) 🌊


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